


Remember Remember the Fifth of November

by ClanDonnachaidh



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27404125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClanDonnachaidh/pseuds/ClanDonnachaidh
Summary: After being stuck in a bit of a rut, I was tasked to just write for a specific amount of time and publish whatever appeared, no edits or anything. So this bit of fluff appeared. Hope you enjoy and happy bonfire night. x
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 18
Kudos: 75





	Remember Remember the Fifth of November

“D’ye think she’ll be warm enough?”

I looked down at our daughter and swallowed the urge to comment on the fact that he’d asked that very question at least ten times in almost as many minutes. His strong jaw was clenched in concentration as he wrestled a cosy knit hat onto her head, trying to be as delicate as he could so as to not wake her but having to go to war with her already abundant curls as they fought back against constriction. Brianna was in my favourite place, cocooned in a wrap that held her close to my chest with her head resting heavily on my shoulder as she slept. I even welcomed the drool that would no doubt be spilling from her parted lips as she dreamed.

Amongst all the other blessings that having a child of our own brought to us, the fact that she was such a good sleeper was not one to go unmentioned.

I smiled softly at the sight of my husband, huge and imposing in every way but somehow unbelievably gentle when it came to his daughter. Jamie was looking at her with the sheer adoration that appeared only when he was looking at Brianna.

“She’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be warm beside the bonfire.”

“Aye but nae too close,” Jamie warned me, pointlessly.

“Don’t worry, lad, I don’t have any inclination to launch our daughter into the flames.”

He quietly muttered ‘dinna even joke’ under his breath as he put an arm around me and pressed a kiss to my temple, showing me that I was forgiven for my attempt at comedy.

Brianna shuffled slightly so I checked that she was comfortable, made sure that her little booties were firmly on her feet and saw that her hands were cradled in tight fists under her chin. Jamie retrieved his favourite Barbour jacket from the wardrobe and slipped into it, pulling his own beanie down around his ears before he caught sight of the three of us in the mirror.

Of course I was biased but the picture reflected in the glass was glorious. We looked like the perfect little family. Jamie towering over his two girls, ever the protector. I hadn’t been aware that I was beaming with pride but when I saw myself, my face was split into an open grin. Our little unit, all bundled up against what would be a cold autumn night, complete with matching wool jumpers that had been a gift to Jamie and myself from Jenny the previous Christmas with the promise of a smaller version being underway for Brianna to receive this year.

We could hear Ian and Murtagh having a loud discussion about where best to stick the Guy even through the thick walls of Lallybroch. With a chuckle, Jamie decided that it was time for him to wade into the discussion lest his godfather and brother-in-law decided to try and drown the other in the basin full of water that had been set up so the children could bob for apples. Just as we made it into the kitchen, Wee Jamie was caught red handed trying to stick a single finger into the treacle that was cooling around the toffee apples that were supposed to have been a surprise for later. A fact that wasn’t lost on my husband.

“Yer ma will tan yer hide and ye ken fine well.” Jamie grabbed his namesake around the waist with his free arm and lifted his giggling nephew out into the cold air, his other arm never dropping from the shield that he had created around Brianna and myself.

Lallybroch had come to be our home. It was beautiful in the spring with the first buds beginning to bloom and the small walk down to the burn was worth it for a dip in the midst of boiling hot summers. Of course, it was picturesque enough to be on a postcard when it was covered in soft, fluffy snow but my favourite had to be autumn. The trees that surrounded the land had all turned, greens deepening until they turned bright orange and red. It hadn’t been too windy so even though the ground was covered in a deep layer of leaves, the huge trees were anything but bare.

“Go and sort them out before I stuff one of them into the Guy’s outfit masel’,” Jenny’s voice came from behind us and Jamie snorted a laugh as he moved towards the two men who were still having words with each other over the correct placement of the effigy that had lovingly been made from potato sacks and straw with a somewhat terrifying hand-drawn face thanks to the efforts of Wee Jamie and his little sister Maggie.

“Mary, Michael and Bride, they’re worse than the weans sometimes,” Jenny sighed heavily, a sentiment I was not going to disagree with. We watched the three men bicker over this and that before finally coming to the conclusion that they would play rock, paper, scissors to determine the outcome of a very simple issue.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I laughed as Murtagh clipped Ian around the head, clearly not happy with the result. Victorious, Ian pulled the physical representation of Guy Fawkes from the ground and placed him proudly on the bonfire, balancing him right in the middle of a particularly dense patch of branches to serve as a sort of throne.

I hadn’t noticed Jenny had gone until she reappeared with two mugs in her hands, spirals of steam rising and disappearing into the air.

“I slipped something special intae yer hot chocolate, mo phiuthar,” Jenny gave me a wink as she pressed the warm mug into my hand. I inquisitively stuck my nose close to the rim and felt a wry smile creep onto my face as I confirmed my suspicions with a look at my sister-in-law.

“That creme brûlée liqueur I got you?”

She nodded before taking a solid glug from her own cocktail, “The very same.”

From his place at his dad’s side, Wee Jamie bolted towards us and pulled at his mother’s arm, dragging her towards her husband as he begged the two of them for the bonfire to be lit.

With a look down at my own sleeping offspring, I took a sip of my hot chocolate and closed my eyes appreciatively, letting the warmth flow down my throat and into my chest.

“Christ alive, Claire.”

Jamie’s husky voice appeared from behind me and I smirked at him, knowing that only my husband could be one of the only men to see his wife enjoying a hot drink and make it a _sexual_ thing.

“There’s booze in it. Here, try.”

I offered my mug to him but instead he closed the gap between us, careful to cradle Brianna’s head in one of his hands, and kissed the taste from my lips.

“Delicious.”

“Uncle Jamie, hurry! Da’s doin’ it!”

We all convened around the modest structure that had been built from old fence posts, planks from barn doors and old bits of timber from wooden pallets. I spied the leg of a kitchen chair that had met an explosive end the previous Hogmanay after a drunken Jamie and Murtagh had fallen into it during what had started as an eightsome reel and quickly descended into the two men trying to spin each other as hard as possible until they both lost their footing.

As if she knew that it was time for the festivities to start, Brianna started to make the little noises that meant she was beginning to wake.

“Ah, the wee snuffle pig is comin’ around, is she?” Jamie whispered soft words over her as his hands began to untangle his daughter from the folds of the wrap. I giggled at the nickname that he’d given her and stretched the tired muscles of the small of my back now that I didn’t have an extra 10kg of weight hanging off of me. Even though she was only a year old, Brianna was affectionately referred to within the family as ‘the long baby’ due to the Viking genes that had been passed down through her father.

As her sleepy eyes began to blink open, the first thing in her line of sight was her father which produced a rather spectacular smile.

“Daaaaaa,” she groaned with joy.

It was the only thing that she said, not yet having mastered any sort of name for me. She had, however, had given me the gift of a very specific, very shrill screech to know when it was mummy that was looking for. As much as I joked about him pipping me to the post, it was my favourite thing to see Jamie’s utterly radiant smile each and every time she said it.

“Did ye have a nice wee sleep, m’annsachd?” he asked as he kissed her head and then each cheek for good measure.

“Look, darling!” I put on my best excited face and pointed towards the bonfire where Murtagh held a torch and Ian held Maggie on his hip, Wee Jamie at dutifully at his side.

“Remember, remember, the 5th of November! Gunpowder, treason and plot! We see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot!”

With a round of applause for the two Murray children, Murtagh put the torch to the woodpile.

It went up with a _whoosh_ causing Murtagh to stagger back slightly. He caught himself before subtly giving the finger to Ian who was doubled over laughing.

“Ye’ve got a bit less beard the noo!”

Shaking my head at the childish antics of the two eldest men in the family, I set my sights on the reflection of the flames dancing around in Brianna’s beautiful blue eyes. A lighter higher up, I saw the same vision replicated in the eyes of her father.

“D’ye like it, Bree? Can ye see the manny on the top there?”

“One year old might be a _touch_ young to start explaining about why we burn a man on a bonfire, Fraser,” I said sardonically.

He made a face at me before bringing his mouth down to meet mine, Brianna’s pudgy hand caught somewhere between our bottom lips.

“She’ll be raised on stories of rebels, Sassenach. Guy Fawkes and Robert the Bruce and the like.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Any women in that list?”

“Aye, ‘course. Joan of Arc, Sophie Scholl. All the good ones.”

I nodded once with a smile to tell him that I was happy with his additions and we turned back to the bonfire, watching as the effigy burned in front of us. Jamie secured Brianna on his hip, burying his face into the riotous curls that had escaped from her hat and delighting in the resulting giggles. His other arm was wrapped around my side, sheltering me under his arm. Despite the cold, he was warm enough for all three of us.

We watched as the flames licked and crawled over the wood, bursts of air popping as the heat became too much. It was a beautiful clear night, even with the smoke from the bonfire billowing upwards and all at once, a huge explosion of white light lit up the night sky.

Brianna’s face at the sight of her first firework was something I knew that both Jamie and I would cherish forever. Her mouth hung open, eyes glittering with excitement as the colours burst in the sky. White and blue and green and red illuminated the pale skin on her face and it was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.

She began to make breathy noises of awe, her little hand gently resting on Jamie’s cheek just to make sure that he was watching it all unfold with her. He quickly snuck a glance at me and smiled knowingly when he saw the tears in my eyes. A laugh snuck out of me, ready to dash my eyes and make a self-deprecating comment about being a silly, emotional mum but Jamie pulled me tighter against him and laid a kiss on the crown of my head.

“I am the luckiest man alive,” he announced. “Happy Bonfire Night, my beautiful lasses.”

**Author's Note:**

> After being stuck in a bit of a rut, I was tasked to just write for a specific amount of time and publish whatever appeared, no edits or anything. So this bit of fluff appeared. Hope you enjoy and happy bonfire night. x


End file.
